The green, green too too green grass of home
One of the estate gardeners mows the lawn while nimbly avoiding golf balls being driven at him
All of England, it would appear, in under the boot of the unutterable cads that think a hosepipe is the greatest threat to law and order since the invention of the inflatable mob. I had charitably considered that the sort of pen pushing idiots that ban hose pipes in the summer - the very time when you want your lawn lush and green so that you can frolic on it, were merely official killjoys. Now it appears the truth is much darker, they are lefties.
It’s the only explanation. In winter, when there is no hosepipe ban, ones only pleasure from the lawn is to admire how lush and green it is, and to entertain the occasional fantasy about putting a small putting green at the top of it, well away from the house. In summer, the lawn becomes the centre of activity. Parties are held on it, sporting pursuits are engaged in. There is croquet, there is speed croquet, there is drunken croquet, there is cricket and, I believe, there may be tennis. All these require a lawn in pristine condition, for it is well known that for every glass of Pimms spilled on the lawn, one must counter with at least three glasses of water.
Hence, I have invested in a ‘Nemo & Noah aquavita 5000’, the very latest in stealth watering technology. This ensures that my garden is liberally sprinkled during the hours of darkness. Of course, a lush green lawn may rather stand out in a neighbourhood that Lawrence of Arabia might feel at home in, which is why the perimeters of the estate are now patrolled by the family’s own breed of guard dog, part rotweiller, part donkey - if it can’t savage you it kicks you to death.
There are only two concerns. The first is that the council launch a surveillance satellite and, given the level of my council tax and the services I receive for same, one possible explanation is that the difference is funding a space programme. The second is that the pesky buggers follow the bright yellow pipe with a two foot bore from the local reservoir to where it enters the estate and decants directly into the tank that feeds the sprinklers, water features, swimming pool and ornamental fountains.
All of England, it would appear, in under the boot of the unutterable cads that think a hosepipe is the greatest threat to law and order since the invention of the inflatable mob. I had charitably considered that the sort of pen pushing idiots that ban hose pipes in the summer - the very time when you want your lawn lush and green so that you can frolic on it, were merely official killjoys. Now it appears the truth is much darker, they are lefties.
It’s the only explanation. In winter, when there is no hosepipe ban, ones only pleasure from the lawn is to admire how lush and green it is, and to entertain the occasional fantasy about putting a small putting green at the top of it, well away from the house. In summer, the lawn becomes the centre of activity. Parties are held on it, sporting pursuits are engaged in. There is croquet, there is speed croquet, there is drunken croquet, there is cricket and, I believe, there may be tennis. All these require a lawn in pristine condition, for it is well known that for every glass of Pimms spilled on the lawn, one must counter with at least three glasses of water.
Hence, I have invested in a ‘Nemo & Noah aquavita 5000’, the very latest in stealth watering technology. This ensures that my garden is liberally sprinkled during the hours of darkness. Of course, a lush green lawn may rather stand out in a neighbourhood that Lawrence of Arabia might feel at home in, which is why the perimeters of the estate are now patrolled by the family’s own breed of guard dog, part rotweiller, part donkey - if it can’t savage you it kicks you to death.
There are only two concerns. The first is that the council launch a surveillance satellite and, given the level of my council tax and the services I receive for same, one possible explanation is that the difference is funding a space programme. The second is that the pesky buggers follow the bright yellow pipe with a two foot bore from the local reservoir to where it enters the estate and decants directly into the tank that feeds the sprinklers, water features, swimming pool and ornamental fountains.
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